Nowhere He Would Rather Be
by Wolvenflower
Summary: The lives of Sherlock and Redbeard from two perspectives. A little sad, but mostly sappy. Chapters aren't necessarily in order.
1. Redbeard

When Redbeard was brought into the Holmes family, he was a very happy puppy indeed. Here was a small human child, who gave him food, and took him outside, and played with him, and slipped him scraps of meat under the dinner table. Here was a young boy who loved him. And Redbeard loved him back. Very much. He figured the boy must be called Sherlock, and apparently his name was Redbeard. He heard tales about pirates, none of which he understood, but that was alright, because 'pirates' seemed to make Sherlock happy, and that made him feel happy, too.

There was another young male, a little older than his human, who seemed to not like him. The older boy always looked sad when Sherlock wasn't looking. Redbeard decided he didn't like this older human, especially because Sherlock did not seem to like him either. So, Redbeard did not let the other young boy touch any of his human's things. He was a good dog. Sherlock was proud of him, he did a good job guarding his master's things from this other boy. Sometimes, he would even try to take the dead squirrels away. Redbeard did not approve of this at all. He had worked very hard to catch those squirrels, they were a gift for Sherlock. Sherlock always told him he was a good boy when he brought him gifts or fetched the stick.

Redbeard watched his human grow bigger and taller and the years passed. Redbeard wasn't completely certain, but he thought that he must have also grown bigger. He was certain, though, that Sherlock was the best and most important person in the world. He would do anything for Sherlock. He loved Sherlock. If Sherlock was happy, he was happy, and if Sherlock got upset, then Redbeard got upset too.

Redbeard didn't always understand Sherlock. Sherlock would talk to him a lot, but he only ever learned a few words. 'No', 'up', 'down', 'good dog', 'come here', 'sit', and other such simple words and commands. Although Redbeard didn't always understand his human, he always .knew when something was wrong. The thing that unsettled Redbeard the most was when Sherlock would put things into his arms. Usually, humans hated having sharp things put in their skin. It was confusing. Why wasn't Sherlock angry or sad about the stabby thing in his arm? Even more confusing was that Sherlock seemed to like the stabby thing. Redbeard didn't like the stabby thing. It made Sherlock wrong. But Sherlock shouldn't be wrong, Sherlock was his human. It was very confusing and Redbeard didn't like it one bit.

One day, Sherlock grabbed his leash and took him to the park. He liked the park very much. He got to go for a walk and he got to smell all kinds of things. But then a man came out of the bushes and attacked Sherlock. He yelled something about ruining a 'job' and 'life'. Redbeard wouldn't have any of it. No one touched his human. No one could hurt his human. He jumped at the man and bit him, clawing at him and sinking his teeth into the bad man's face. The man threw him off. Ouch. Redbeard didn't know what was wrong with his foot, but he didn't like it. He knew it was very bad because Sherlock seemed very distressed about it. He didn't his human to feel sad and distressed. He was just happy that he protected him from the bad man. He felt Sherlock lift him up into his arms, and then he didn't feel anything.

In the next week, he felt a lot. His foot hurt a lot and there was an odd human thing on it, and it prevented him from cleaning or scratching. He didn't like it. It was bad, so he gnawed at it. Sherlock told him 'no' when he did, so he only did it when Sherlock wasn't looking. Sherlock picked up the stabby thing again, so when Sherlock was at school, Redbeard lifted his front paws to the dresser and knocked it to the ground. He took it in his mouth and buried it in the garden. Sherlock was not happy when he couldn't find it, but he didn't yell at Redbeard, instead he yelled at the older male.

When Redbeard noticed his fur wasn't as dark as it used to be, and he couldn't see as well, or hear as well, he spent more time sleeping. One time he fell asleep, and suddenly he was looking at himself. Then Sherlock was hunched over his body, and he was crying. Redbeard went over to Sherlock and licked his face. He didn't want Sherlock to cry, it made him sad. Sherlock started to cry a lot, and Redbeard learned the word 'dead'. He learned a lot about 'death', and apparently it meant he wasn't alive anymore, that Sherlock couldn't see him. It made him sad for a little while, but then Sherlock got used to it, and so did Redbeard.

Redbeard was very happy when Sherlock met John. John meant Sherlock had a friend again. John made Sherlock happy. John made sure that Sherlock didn't use the stabby thing. John helped Sherlock when he got hurt. John was loyal. John could take care of Sherlock now. Redbeard was a little sad, but he was glad that Sherlock was safe and happy and well taken-care of. His job was done, John could take it from here.

Redbeard went to a place that he assumed must be the place called 'heaven' that Sherlock mentioned a few times. It must be that place because that place was supposed to be good. Sherlock was there and that was good. Sherlock wasn't there all the time, just sometimes. He would come to this place full of staircases and rooms and papers to think about things and work them out. Sometimes, he needed Redbeard. And when he did, Redbeard was there. There was nowhere he would rather be.


	2. Mycroft

Mycroft once had a goldfish, and when it died, he cried for weeks on end. Mummy and Daddy were willing to buy him a new one, but he refused. "Why," he had said, "when it's just going to happen again. Its just going to hurt."

When Sherlock was nearly six, he was promised a pet for his birthday. "I want a dog," he said eagerly, "because they're loyal."

Mycroft objected on the grounds that Sherlock wasn't responsible, he couldn't even tie his own shoelaces. Mummy said it wasn't his decision, and that he should be a good brother and stop complaining about having to tie Sherlock's shoelaces.  
"But Mum, he can, he just refuses-" he was cut off by his mother shushing him. "I won't have another word about it."

Two weeks later, an Irish Setter was brought into the house. Sherlock christened him 'Redbeard' and they promptly began to terrorise Mycroft with their noisy roughhousing, chasing each other through the halls, barking and screaming with delight. It was very annoying. When he confronted Sherlock about his disruptive behavior, Sherlock responded with,

"You're just sore about your goldfish. You don't like that I've got a friend and you're all alone."

Mycroft had to bite back his words. Caring wasn't an advantage.

Mycroft recalled a sunny day in August, upon which his little brother of seven came up to him and asked, "What is heaven?"

"It's illogical," he had replied.

"Yes, but if it were real, what would it be?" Sherlock's tone made him sound over-dramatic, as always.

"I suppose if it is supposed to be eternal bliss, then it should be wherever, and whatever you like the most."

"So it'd be a garden, with a pirate ship, and Redbeard and I can play all day long and catch frogs and do experiments and no one will bother us?" he asked excitedly.

Mycroft huffed. "I should suppose so."

Mycroft walked up to his brother, his frame bent over a stone in the garden, shaking.

"Sentiment is a chemical defect," his tone was clipped, precise, and calculated.  
"Shut up," he whispered sharply.  
"Sorry, couldn't quite catch that little brother"  
"**Shut. Up**." He spat the words like daggers.  
Mycroft opened his mouth but was interrupted when Sherlock stood up and turned to face him.  
"Don't say another word or I will _break you_," he did his best to sound threatening, but it was ruined by his throat closing up as he choked back a sob.

Mycroft sighed, and sat himself and his brother down on the grass with a swift gesture.

"Illogical as it may be, I suppose Redbeard is still with you," he said in a hushed voice.

Sherlock tried to scoff. "Now who's being sentimental?"he said in the same quiet, whispery tone, "It's impossible anyway, what would make you say that?"

"Because brother mine, heaven is your favourite place with your favourite people," Sherlock looked up and they locked eyes. "I can think of nowhere Redbeard would rather be than at your side."

Sherlock's lip quivered, and Mycroft was briefly overcome with love and pity for his brother. He gathered him into his arms.

"But it hurts," Sherlock whispered against his shoulder.

"Yes, it does." Mycroft had no words to console him.  
Sherlock vowed to never love again.


End file.
